Felony Ever After

by Helena Hunting

  “So I’m supposed to trust you completely because you have a miraculously amazing pierced dick?”

  “No. You should believe me because you’ve seen what kind of person I am. I’ve told you things I hadn’t shared with anyone. You should believe me because I’ve been fighting for this relationship with you.”

  “Right now I’m sitting in a room that makes no sense, and you don’t see why that bothers me? Tell me about it,” she urged. “Please. Show me that you trust me too. What’s the deal with this chair?” she asked, running her hands over its wide arms.

  “I’m not sure I should disclose that information,” he said, oddly but intentionally formal. He seemed to be swallowing the words he wished he could say. “I trust you,” he added. “But this room and what happens here is not just about me.”

  She thought for a moment, wondering what she was missing. Then she decided maybe the best way to be worthy of Hudson’s trust was to deem him worthy of hers. “In addition to being freaked out today by meeting a latex version of myself, let me try to explain why, in general, secrets can often seem like lies to me,” she began.

  And then she told him the story she’d never dared tell anyone, maybe even herself: how her mother’s version of being an artist was more like drinking a lot and never coming home, how gallery shows and mingling had taken precedence over her husband and daughter, and how saying one thing and doing the opposite had become the standard for Verity’s mother and her child.

  “I’ve vowed never to let myself be hurt like that again,” Verity finally said. “I need to know the truth. I can’t just accept what you tell me because that didn’t work out well for me when I was growing up.”

  “Okay, I get it.” Hudson took a deep breath. “What do you want to know?”

  “What happens here? Why can’t you tell me?” Verity crossed her arms over his concert T-shirt.

  He gave her a look that clearly weighed and measured their entire relationship and everything she’d just told him before sighing. “Remember when I told you about Spring Felt? My mom’s tattoo artist who became my tattoo artist?” He lifted an eyebrow.

  Verity nodded.

  “Well, she retired a few years ago, but before that I apprenticed with her, learned from her. Turns out I’m pretty good at more than drawing tattoos. So when she was done, she directed her clients to me.” He bit his thumb.

  “You give people tattoos? Okay. I guess that’s what this chair is for. But what’s the big deal? Why keep that a secret?”

  “Well, Spring had quite a reputation, and many of her clients—now my clients—are people you’ve heard of, people you’d recognize. People who value their privacy and don’t want media coverage of the fact that they’re getting a tattoo.” He paused meaningfully, and Verity felt her eyes widen as understanding dawned on her.

  “You’re a tattoo artist to the stars! You’re smokin’ and jokin’ and pokin’ the best and the brightest with needles. I knew you had a deviant streak,” she giggled. “I’m just so glad it’s not criminal!”

  “Yeah, I’m super deviant,” he said with a snort. “Tattooing someone is about trust—holding their trust and keeping your word. Sometimes there’s also a non-disclosure agreement involved. All very kinky and scandalous. It’s actually a big pain in the ass sometimes—I get calls at odd hours, last-minute requests, huge egos to manage, and a really weird work schedule, which is why I keep it to only a select group of clients.”

  “Okay!” Verity nodded. “And you clearly make good money. So why do you work as a bike messenger? For kicks?”

  “Basically. I have the time, and I get to ride around the city, run into all sorts of only-in-New-York situations, meet people—among them a stunningly gorgeous yet insane country girl who thinks I’m a deviant—and I get my inspiration. Plus, it pisses off my dad. I love delivering to his building so I can demonstrate to all of them what a huge failure I am.”

  “That is a little deviant,” Verity noted. “And I like it.”

  Hudson smiled big, looking hugely relieved. “Spring gave me an amazing gift, and I never want to let her down. If word got out about my client list, my whole business—her whole legacy—would collapse. So that’s why I don’t share this part of myself with anyone. Well, until now.”

  For some reason, Verity felt herself blushing. She looked at the floor. “I didn’t really think you were a deviant.”

  “You practically came when you thought I would kill people over that outfit you wore.”

  “You have to know that’s not really what turned me on. I liked that you were possessive of me,” she admitted. She took in a quick breath and met his stunned eyes. “I...I really liked that you seemed to want me for yourself.”

  “I do.” His eyes were wide and clear. She saw something in them that sent shivers through her entire body. “Fuck, Verity.”

  She pulled herself out of the chair and swooned a bit. “Fuck you, Fireball,” she mumbled.

  He laughed. “You drank Fireball? That’s some shit whiskey, baby.”

  At the thought of all that had accompanied the Fireball, Verity felt a little green. But not even the mother hangover she knew was coming could mar her happiness. Trust was kind of an amazing thing, and Hudson seemed to be the king of it.

  She sighed into a smile. “Do you mind if I grab a quick shower?” When his smile went from congenial to lustful she put up a hand. “It’s going to be medically thorough, so maybe I can get it alone.”

  Hudson nodded like the gentleman she believed he was. “I’ll get you clothes to change into.”

  She followed him to his bedroom where he provided her with yet another concert tee and a pair of boxer briefs, then directed her into his shower.

  Twenty minutes later, feeling steam-cleaned with the pink skin to prove it, Verity found Hudson unlocking a set of glass French doors at the back of the kitchen. As he entered, she heard a chorus of sweet meows. She walked around the island to see a herd of kitties rubbing on his legs.

  “Um...you really like pussy, huh?” she said.

  He smiled and winked. “I foster for a few rescues and shuttle them around to the cat cafes in the Village so they can get adopted.”

  “Seriously? Your lifestyle affords such luxuries!” Verity cocked a hip out to the side, enjoying the new, lighter mood.

  He smiled, and it was like sunshine. She returned her attention to the mass of cats at their feet. After a moment she saw extra toes and squeed.

  “Omigod! He’s a Hemingway kitty—um, a polydactyl.”

  “Yep.” Hudson nodded. “That’s Hunter. And the rest are Tiger, Lola, and Killer.”

  Verity snickered. “Killer? Which one?”

  Hudson pointed to the smallest, a brown tabby with one eye missing.

  “Of course he is.”

  “She,” he said, and they locked eyes. “I took her in the day after I met you.”

  She stared at her tattooed bad boy-good guy for a moment. Lifting up onto her toes, she kissed him lightly.

  “You should keep her,” she said.

  He dropped Killer to the floor, where she mewed and began rolling and batting with the others at their feet. “I’d like to,” he said, pulling Verity close. “Think she’d like that?”

  “Yep. I’m sure of it,” she said.

  Verity Michaels @VerityPics03

  My boyfriend loves the pussy. #CatCondo #Weirdo <3

  Hudson Fenn @tatwhiteknight

  My girlfriend loves that I love the pussy. #Killer Did you just <3 me?

  Verity Michaels @VerityPics03

  Can’t tweet anymore. Oral afterglow. #ChangingThisAcct2NSFW <3 <3

  Hudson Fenn @tatwhiteknight

  Put the phone down, woman. I’m not done with you. #VeryNSFW <3 <3 <3

  Chapter 21

  Slick Glass

  Nina Bocci/Debra Anastasia

  Even in a sleepy fog, Verity enjoyed the soft kisses Hudson peppered across her shoulder and neck. His rough, sandpaper tongue darted out to kis
s her chin while his fuzzy beard tickled her nose. Wait, what?

  She cracked her eyes open, took a moment to thank the heavens she didn’t feel as awful as she deserved to after last night’s ridiculous drinking, and came face to face with Killer, who sat on her chest meowing. Embarrassed, she reached over for Hudson, but his side of the bed was empty—still warm though, so she scooped up the kitten and padded across the chilly floor in search of him.

  The shower was running, steam pouring from beneath the door. “Sorry, Killer. You’re not going to like what goes down in here,” she whispered. She kissed the cat on top of its soft head before setting her down on a side table with an antique microscope on it.

  Verity cracked the door and slipped inside. The room was stifling, billowing with steam that caressed and warmed her skin.

  Watching Hudson’s figure in the steamy shower, she thought back over last night—the whole of last night, not just the sex parts, although damn. Things felt different now. Hudson was much less a mystery to her, and he’d been willing to learn her secrets too. Each time they’d talked had revealed another piece of her heart to him, and the weight of his trust in her, his belief in her, felt luxuriously wonderful.

  Her nipples tightened as she watched the silhouette of his body beneath the shower heads. What she wouldn’t give to be a droplet of water sluicing between the dips and valleys of his body, sliding over the colorful landscape that was his skin.

  “You staring at me has raised the heat in here by twenty degrees,” Hudson called over the water. One of his hands slapped the glass high above his head and slid down. She watched with fascination as the steam filled in the clear spot in a matter of moments. He did it again, this time with both hands. He slid them against the slick, steamed-up glass until they exposed his face.

  His wicked smile was covered by the steam as he spoke. “I need some help,” he said, pushing forward enough that the piercing on his hard cock left its own trail along the glass.

  Without a second thought, she stalked toward the shower and stepped inside. Verity felt empowered, brazen, more sexually alive than she’d ever been in her life. She and Hudson truly were something together.

  Silently, he pulled her under the water warm from the rain shower overhead. He pushed her hair back, kissing along her forehead, across her temples, and over her cheeks while his hands took the stretched-out sides of the shirt she wore and pulled them, making the gaping arm holes even larger.

  It shouldn’t have been sexy; what he was doing should have looked ridiculous, but Verity watched with rapt attention as he maneuvered the arm holes across her chest, framing her breasts with the now-transparent white fabric.

  He kneeled before her on the tiles, gripping the shirt with one hand to keep it between her breasts. “I like them like this,” he murmured before taking a nipple in his mouth.

  When her knees wobbled, he spun her so she could lean back against the shower glass for support. She imagined what someone walking in might see: her skin flush against the slick glass, no steam covering her up, her bare ass pressed against it.

  She gasped as Hudson pulled as much of her breast into his mouth as he could. She took the shirt from his hand and ripped it, fully exposing herself to his ravaging mouth.

  “Someone is feisty this morning,” he said as he sat back on his haunches.

  He stroked his cock once before he went to his knees and laid it hard and thick against the tile, the silver at the tip sparkling in the water.

  Verity had a war raging within her. She wanted nothing more than to grip his head and pull his tongue onto her clit. Or throw him down onto the tile and ride his face until she came. Another bit of her tried to smother the surge of energy and just relish Hudson’s wickedness—see where he took this.

  While she was overthinking things, he spread her out before him with soft fingers.

  “Mmm,” he whispered, the words almost drowned out by the water surrounding them.

  Her head thudded against the glass, the vibration shooting up her back. She looked around the shower, trying to find something, anything to focus on besides Hudson rubbing his nose against her, teasing. His tongue followed and then the second-most beloved piercing lit her up from the inside out, slowly and methodically destroying her.

  Her entire body shook, and she thought she might implode from the want coursing through her. Everything was more intense now.

  When his tongue connected with her clit again, she nearly cried in relief. He moaned, and the vibration set her off quickly.

  “Again,” he coaxed, using one hand to keep her open and the other to tease at her entrance. With one finger inside, he curled it upward until her body pitched forward, slumping against him for support.

  “Hudson, no more,” she begged weakly, but he paid her pleas no mind. Instead he added another finger, filling her.

  “More…” He spoke against her, adding a third.

  That was when she broke, again—thrashing against the glass, against him.

  Looking pleased with himself, he unfurled from his position on the tile and stretched his arms above his head.

  “Okay?” he asked, smiling down at her. “I have something else for you.”

  Though sated and a bit jelly-like, she perked up when his cock brushed against her.

  “I’m not sure I’ll be of any use,” she said, trying to will movement into her melted bones.

  Hudson moved to the faucets, turned a few knobs, and before she knew it, water sprayed out of side jets directly onto her.

  He slunk back to her and moved his hands to her waist. Lifting her easily, he pinned her to the glass. The water swept past them like speeding traffic, heating up the shower even more.

  “You don’t have to do anything. I got this,” he told her. And with that promise, he slipped inside. He buried his head near her neck and began to move.

  “Faster,” she moaned, pulling at his hair. She kissed him hungrily, gripping and clutching his slick back.

  “No, like this,” he grunted, keeping his agonizing pace.

  It felt like one long, drawn-out, blinding orgasm that built from the tips of her hair to the red paint on her toes. Her body sang, hummed along with the music of the water that splashed around them.

  “Huds—fuck me, fuck,” she moaned.

  He finally picked up speed, his knuckles knocking against the glass as he came.

  He stayed inside her for a moment or ten. She wasn’t sure of anything other than her singular focus on the bright silver rain showerhead above them.

  “I can’t get enough of you,” he said, lowering her slowly to the tile. He led her to the wide teak bench to sit.

  As Hudson pushed another few buttons and spun knobs, the water stopped and the steam picked up, swelling in the shower like a rising ghost. “This will keep us warm until we can—”

  “—function?” she finished, curling up at his side.

  “That’s a great way of putting it.” Hudson pulled her close and kissed the top of her wet head.

  “You have a great way of putting it too.” Verity bit her lip when he growled and

  pulled her onto his lap, where she straddled him.

  They spent some time hugging like this, the steam making the whole thing seem like a dream.

  “So what now, Verity Michaels? What would you like to do with your day? With your life?”

  She took in his dimples and white teeth as he smiled at her before hitting the back of his front teeth gently with the tongue piercing.

  “I don’t know. My dad would probably find me a couple hundred more interviews as soon as I tell him I’m out of a job.”

  “He doesn’t know yet?”

  “No. There’s a lot of explaining that will have to go along with that, and I like to sandwich bad news in between two slices of good news.” She trailed her fingers over Hudson’s collarbone, thinking about how her father would react to the silent rebellion on his skin.

  “Am I bad news, baby?”

  He’d read h
er mind.

  She squeezed her eyes shut against all the sexual innuendoes she wanted to make. “For me you’re not,” she said when she’d recovered. “You’re the best news. For Dad? Well, he will need to get to know you. He judges first, but he does come around. At least that’s my hope. I actually think you guys would get along great.”

  “Thanks for thinking that.” He rested his hands on her hips.

  “It’s true. I can’t think of a single person that matters to me who wouldn’t be crazy about you as soon as they got to know you. You’re a chameleon—you can be fancy and rich or riding a bike or inking a tattoo. I’m proud of who you are.” She touched his forehead and traced his sharp cheekbone down to his stubble-lined jaw.

  “And how I look?”

  She saw a hint of insecurity before he put his gaze on her lips instead of her eyes.

  She put one hand on either side of his gorgeous face. “You’re a masterpiece. A treasure. And the inside is as beautiful as the outside.” She kissed the tip of his nose as she watched him blush under her fingers.

  This man—who’d helped his mother until she couldn’t fight anymore, this person who refused to conform to his father’s will—he was exceptional. And he needed this adoration. Not just the physical appreciation, but to know the way her heart felt when she saw him, the way she felt safe when he smiled at her.

  She kissed him with those thoughts soaring in her mind. She hoped he could taste them a little.

  ***

  After breakfast, they cuddled up on Hudson’s couch in sweats. They’d resolved to let the question of Verity’s future go unanswered for a while longer and just be. Hudson thought the “just being” phase might even take a few days—a week tops. But presented with the bounty of Netflix, neither of them could seem to decide on something to watch.

  The trailer for a documentary about sex robots popped up, and Verity felt it was a sign. She had to bring up something still bothering her.

  “You know, the thought of Larold ‘using’ the rubber Verity makes me squeamish—even if it doesn’t actually have my face.” She pulled her legs up under her.